


Closer Than You Know

by ImpalaDreams (impaladreams)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Outdoor Sex, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 19:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2161629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impaladreams/pseuds/ImpalaDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean's thrown back in time, neither he nor Mary can deny their unmistakable bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closer Than You Know

**Author's Note:**

> Set during S4E3, In the Beginning

The beer in his hands turns warm before he finishes it. Mary's is gone before his bottle is even half empty. His desire to drink has left him for the time being and he's not sure why. Maybe it's the time travel, or not wanting to cloud his mind while she's around, preferring to remember every minute detail of their time together. Or, maybe, more simply, her presence simply calms that drive inside him that goads him to imbibe. Whatever the reason, he's not analyzing it. He focuses instead on Mary.

She sets the empty bottle down next to her on the Campbell's back porch and turns to face him, catching him staring. Again. He's lost count how many times it's happened in the course of the past few hours and he looks away, embarrassed. Again. "I'm sorry," he mumbles.

"It's okay." Mary's voice is light, hints of amusement and flattery heavy and he steals another glance to find her smiling at him. He smiles back. "I'm marrying John, you know."

He nods. Of course he knows, more than she'll ever realize. "Yeah, and you guys will make a really great pair. I know you will actually." He turns, expecting to see her silent admonishment or judgment but she's only moved closer to him. Her shoulder grazes his, thigh presses against his own where they sit sharing the step on the porch. He sets his beer aside, the contact far more intoxicating than any liquor could ever be.

"It'll be good for me. He'll get me out of this life." They both nod in agreement. "If I was going to stay in life though..." Dean looks at her as she trails off. Her questioning eyes meet his. "I feel such a, a connection to you, Dean."

The confession falls weightily between them and he has no words. Because he can't explain why that is or what she feels without giving everything away. Not like she'd even believe him. He can only nod again as he looks at her once more, not even trying to hide his expression any longer. "I know."

"Why do you look at me like that? You barely know me. But I feel like..."

Dean swallows hard, wishes he still had the bottle in his hands to fumble with but doesn't pick it up. "It's because I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." The confession is honest. No woman could ever match the pedestal he's placed her on. He'd never be so helplessly drawn to any woman besides her. His mom. "I'm sorry." He looks away, or tries to, but she catches him, warm palm against his cheek, and he can't help but press into that touch.

"Stop apologizing. You haven't done anything wrong. Not yet, at least." Mary's look and intonation surge through him and he realizes what she's implying. He should stop it. Pull away. Stop whatever this is before it even happens. But her hand on his cheek is so warm, her look so welcoming, and he could never say no to her. Not even to this. He doesn't even care that his mom is about to Marty McFly him. He stays still as she leans in, presses her lips against his, warm, soft, comforting, a reminder of everything he craves in his own time. She pulls away slowly.

"John-"

"Will be my husband. After this hunt."

"But I'm-"

"Going to leave. I know."

Dean can't think about that. Even the idea of being back in his proper time, alone, without her, missing a memory, hurts and he can't, won't acknowledge it. Not with her here right now, in front of him and more beautiful than he ever knew or remembered. "Mary," he breathes, and she captures her name from his lips with her own.

There's a need, a longing, a desire, he's not sure, but it's palpable and it passes between them and he holds her tightly, never wanting to let that go. She's pulling him just as close, arms around his shoulders, and his hands find the small of her back. Then there's the press of her body on his and the slide of tongues, desire meets gratification with an open mouth. When they part again her want is clear, unspoken and he knows he needs to stop this but he just wants to feel that close again. He nods. 

"My parents are asleep inside."

"John..."

"He'll never know."

It's true. He knows it is before Mary speaks the words. Even if it wasn't though, he'd probably still let her take his hand in hers, pull him gently, lead him to the darkness of the yard, away from the bright glare of floodlights over the porch.

Dean doesn't know what he's expecting, not really. As Mary pulls him down though, he knows what he wants, the same as her, to feel that closeness, that link, expressed in some real way, something physical that can't be taken away. Not again.

The grass is cool, wet with midnight dew, but her body is warm beneath his. Lips find lips once more and hands roam. Both of theirs. He knows it's wrong, not just in a Oedipal, you shouldn't fuck your mom way, but in deceitful and cheating ways as well. He doesn't care though. What she doesn't know, what John will never know, the new layer of family secrets he's creating, it's nothing to him. They want this, both of them. He can feel it, in the way she grabs him, how her body arches into him, and when his hands trace her form, he remembers that yeah, his mom is a babe.

Mary's hands pull her underwear down as Dean's hands push her dress up. Everything feels sharp, intense, especially when her hands maneuver his jeans far enough down to expose him the same as her. The night air is cool on his erection but she's warm, all of her, surrounding him. He gasps as her hot palm circles his length and his hand finds her heat, already so wet and waiting for him. It's her turn to cry out, softly into the dark around them, when his fingers, sticky with her wetness, trace her folds, find her clit, circle that spot to elicit more of those sounds. 

"Please, please, Dean. I want you," she breathes against his lips. Her legs hook around him, draw him to her, and Dean thinks he could never be close enough. 

He should probably have a condom or something. But it's the seventies and he doesn't have an older brother, so he pushes the thought aside. He presses inside her, slowly, probably too slowly, but he wants to savor it, feel her engulf him, surround him. She's all warmth as her body clings to him as tightly as her pussy and he pauses and groans once he's fully inside her. 

"So good, Dean. God, this feels so right," Mary whimpers. 

"I know. I know." It's barely audible and she kisses the words from his mouth. 

She bucks against him and he instinctively begins to move. His hips thrust, slow at first, but quickly pick up pace that she matches, their bodies moving in a perfect unison that makes Dean dizzy. Her hands are under his shirt, hot against his skin, pulling him to her as her mouth begins a slow steady chant of his name. He wants to answer, a small "Mmm," on his lips with every roll of his hips. He wants to form words but can't say it as his orgasm builds. His hand slips between them again and she cries out louder as he rubs her in time with his thrusts.

"Dean, _Dean, **Dean**_."

Soft, hmming moans are all he can respond. Mary, it should be, but as he feels her clench and buck against him there's just one word that cycles through his mind. 

Mom, _Mom, **Mom**_. 

"Oh God, Dean, I'm going to come!" 

"Me too." 

It happens at the same time, pulsing, pressed tight, mouth to mouth, and closer than he ever thought possible. Her walls contract, he spills deep inside her, and he holds her against him, doesn't want it to end as they pant and twist and find their release together. He doesn't let it, keeps his lips against hers and hands on her body until they've long since come down and there's just a sated, tired feeling left between them. 

Dean pulls away, hesitantly, and looks down at his mom, more beautiful now than he has ever seen her, all flush and skin dewy like the grass she's lying on, blonde hair splayed on green that he can just make out in the darkness. "M- Mary..."

"Dean," she smiles. Her hand holds his cheek once more and Dean presses into the touch, eyes squeezed shut, memorizing the sensation. "Promise you'll remember this?" 

"Always." He lets himself kiss her, one final time, deeply, fully, taking a part of her to bring with him, to remember, as if he could ever, ever forget her.


End file.
